Elysienne

There’s a version of you out there who’s lighter. Softer. Smiling without faking it. She’s not far — maybe just a small trip away. We live in loops. Wake up, check the phone, pretend we’re okay, and repeat. Some days feel heavier than others — not because of anything dramatic, but because of everything unspoken. The little miscommunications. The weight of not being understood. The way your energy dims slowly, so silently, that you almost don’t notice until you don’t recognize yourself anymore. And in those moments, you don’t always need a long vacation to fix it. You just need distance. New air. A sky that hasn’t watched you cry. You leave behind the pressure to be “on,” the constant explaining, and the noise. And suddenly, you’re sipping chai on a quiet roadside, laughing without thinking about who’s watching. The world slows down. And so do you. You start remembering who you are when you’re not tired. Not pleasing. Not doubting. But something within you absolutely has. Like I ...

  So, I blog. Not because I have all the answers, but because writing gives me a little peace. It helps me clear my mind—even if no one’s reading. It’s become my way of understanding what I’m feeling without overthinking every little thing. There’s something comforting about turning your thoughts into words. Like you're having a quiet conversation with yourself, one that doesn’t demand anything back. It’s honest, simple, and real. Sometimes, I don’t even know how I feel until I write it down. Honestly, I’ve come to love doing this. It feels like I’m talking to a softer version of myself. And when I feel a little lost, I’ll go back and read my old blogs—and they help. They remind me of how far I’ve come, what I’ve been through, and that I found a way to express something beautiful even on the hardest days. It’s like therapy, but free. And maybe even a little cuter.

Korean food has been haunting my feed like an ex who won’t move on—fiery red tteokbokki bubbling in oversized pans, golden fried chicken that crunches through the screen, and of course, the eternal love letter to kimchi. I’ve seen it everywhere . So naturally, I gave in to the temptation and finally decided: It’s time. Well… spoiler alert: it didn’t quite sweep me off my feet. Don’t get me wrong—these days, Korean restaurants are popping up like mushrooms after rain, and some of them? Total gems. But the place I chose? Yeahhh, more like a dull pebble in a glittery pile. We ordered tteokbokki (because duh, main character vibes), and THANKFULLY, it lived up to the hype—chewy little rice cakes swimming in that spicy-sweet sauce of dreams. So good. The sweet chicken was also a win—crispy, glazed, everything you'd hope for in a K-drama food scene. But the rest? Meh. Just… meh. Some dishes felt like they were trying too hard. Others were just there , existing, not impressing. I wal...

Let’s talk hobbies—the difference between thriving and staring at the ceiling questioning your existence. Because let’s be honest, life isn’t just about surviving; it’s about romanticizing every moment like you’re in a coming-of-age movie .  And hobbies? They’re the soundtrack to that. Her : She journals in a sunlit café, sipping overpriced coffee, writing about things she’ll never say out loud. She’s learning guitar, not because she wants to be famous, but because it makes her feel something. She paints, not because she’s good at it, but because mixing colours makes her soul feel like a sunset. Him : He skates down an empty street at midnight, earphones in, hoodie up, feeling like the main character. He’s obsessed with photography—his camera roll? A love letter to the world through his eyes. He codes, not for school, but because creating something from nothing makes him feel alive . You : You could be any of them. Or none of them. Or all of them at once. That’s the t...

  Music can transform the way we feel, sometimes without us even realizing it. One moment, you’re lost in your thoughts, feeling overwhelmed, and the next, a familiar song comes on, and suddenly everything feels lighter. Music has this invisible power to shift emotions, turning sadness into nostalgia, stress into calm, and exhaustion into energy. There’s a reason why we turn to music in different situations. Soft, slow melodies can wrap around you like a warm hug, making even the most chaotic day feel a little gentler. Upbeat tunes can push you through workouts, study sessions, or those moments when you just need an extra boost of motivation. Sometimes, the right song can feel like a personal anthem, reminding you of your strength, your dreams, or even just the simple joy of being alive. Music has this unique way of making you feel understood. When words fail, when emotions feel too big to put into sentences, there’s always a song that captures exactly what you’re going through. ...

Trying paragliding was honestly a wholesome yet unexpected experience for me. As far as I remember, we did it in Dharamshala when I was pretty young. It was a family-friends trip, and originally, I had zero plans of voluntarily throwing myself off a cliff while attached to some fabric. I mean, I love my life, and I don’t particularly enjoy risking it just for the thrill . But, as fate (and peer pressure) would have it, things didn’t go according to my safe plan. It all started with my sister and her friend deciding to do it. Cool, good for them. Then my sister went first—great, she survived. Then her friend went—still alive. But then, kids younger than me started going too, and suddenly, my existence felt weak . No one directly forced me, of course (because my dad knows me well enough to not even try), but my sister’s friend’s parents, in their infinite wisdom, decided to throw in the classic "It’ll be fun! You should try new things!" (Side note: they never tried it the...